Girl in the Mirror
by Lapis Love
Summary: The Bennetts have earned their reputation, but there is one who is the most notorious of them all. They want her to pen her memoirs but doing so is too dangerous. So a bright-eyed Whitmore University student decided to do it for Bonnie Bennett. Clearly nothing will go wrong. Clearly. This is an AU set in the future.


**A/N: I don't even know why I'm publishing this. I just hope it won't be too complicated. But to a special group of ladies who have helped me through this year, lending their 'ear', dispensing advice, this is for you. Everyone enjoy and have a Happy New Year. I may or may not see you in 2016.**

 **Summary: We've constantly heard about how famous the Bennetts are. So I decided someone, a student studying at Whitmore should do a school project on Bonnie, and for the moment just Bonnie alone because let's face it, she's queen. This is set in a futuristic verse. *Helpful hint* pay attention to the dates.**

Disclaimer: TVD characters belong to their owners. OC's belong to me as well as the plot. Copyright infringement is not intended.

* * *

 _My magic was more famous than I was. See, people didn't care about the girl but about the fire she could wield and how deadly that fire could burn. They would say to my face I was a means to an end. You hear something enough you began to believe it whether it was true or not. I absorbed that message and began to view myself in that same pitiable light that my life was only worth the amount of spells I could dish out before my heart gave out._

 _Well, I'm not exactly that girl anymore. I'm not a girl, period, but something more than mere bones, flesh, veins, and arteries. What I am I can't put into words but I'll do the best that I can._

-recovered journal excerpt from Bonnie Bennett circa 2015

* * *

 **December 27, 2055**

"The things I've seen…the things I've done," heavily lined eyes crinkled even more as the man behind the wheel winced in memory. Or it appeared that way to the person sitting in the passenger seat. What he was really trying to do was staunch his need to cry. He let out a weary sound that was heavy, overwrought with regrets and pain, but barely skimmed the surface of the secrets and lies he guarded in his heart. A heart the doctor was saying could give out at any moment. "I wouldn't wish this kind of life on anyone," he concluded.

"So why are you talking to me? Why did you finally decide to break your silence?"

He smiled then and the smile nearly erased twenty years off his face. Beneath the wrinkles and the age spots, patches of handsomeness could be found, but most when they looked at him stopped at the watery blue eyes and didn't dig any deeper than that.

"It was time," the old man shrugged, his bone popping in the process. "I owe her… _everything_ and telling the truth is the least I can do."

Something heavy was placed on the passenger's lap. It was a large, leather bound journal. She looked down at it. Fingers ghosted across it almost reverently without having any true idea of the enormity of its significance.

"She got a bad rap and what they say about her…far from the truth. She didn't do what they accused her of. It's all in there. The _real_ story. They tell us to be careful, to keep quiet, not say anything to outsiders. Those who talk…they disappear."

She swallowed at that bit of information. "I'll be careful."

The old man grinned as if that would be impossible. "Do what you want with that journal but just make sure…"

The passenger was leaning on to his every word, giddy for more but cautious all the same. "Just make sure what?"

Those sorry, watery blue eyes stared blankly at her. "Who are you? What are you doing in my car?"

Grabbing the journal, she fumbled for the door handle. She had been warned about his episodes. His dementia. She was happy to get what she got but it was time to go now.

She slammed the door and hurried to her waiting vehicle where she stashed the journal inside and clamored behind the wheel.

The man in the car had gotten out, raising his voice demanding to know where his family was, why was he out in the dark. He stopped after a while as if the answer was dropped inside his head like a stone floating to the bottom of a lake.

"Oh, I remember now," he wheezed.

Kamilah Reid watched as semi-retired Sheriff Matt Donovan reached for something inside his car. She couldn't make out what it was, but when she heard the sound of a gunshot blast, and saw matter splatter on the windshield she got her answer.

Screaming to high heaven, she knew it was too late to help Matt Donovan. What she didn't know was that it may have also been too late to help herself.

* * *

 **December 23, 2055**

Kamilah Reid, senior of Whitmore University was trespassing. She wouldn't call it that exactly but the city of Mystic Falls would probably beg to differ. Fingerless mittens held a halogen flashlight while the other was wrapped around the lens of her Nikon 3-D halographics camera. It was a blistering cold night which wasn't surprising considering it was just two days before Christmas. Kamilah refused to think about the fight she had with her mother who decided at the last minute she wanted to spend Christmas and break in the New Year with her 10 years her junior boyfriend in Nassau. Did _she_ get an invite? Hell no.

Dark brown eyes rolled as Kamilah scurried across the grassy knoll that at one point had been the parking lot. She shined her light up at the half hanging sign, the burned remains of what used to be the placard for Mystic Falls High.

The school appeared as if it were sinking into the ground. The place was cordoned off with laughable signs that read PRIVATE PROPERTY. Metal fencing with barbed wire acted as a further deterrent for looters and vandals. A pair of bolt cutters had helped Kamilah slip on the school's grounds but she had to be weary of hover cameras. They could pop up literally anywhere at any given moment and demand she identify herself through an automated voice. She doubt she'd come across an actual live police officer as most held desk jobs these days or handled private security. Drones, androids, and robotics pretty much governed humanity.

Making sure the coast was clear of cameras, Kamilah ran across to the school that would be demolished sometime in the coming year. It was a bit hard to believe the town would let this eye sore stand for decades before doing anything about it, but then Kamilah wondered if perhaps they wanted it to serve as a reminder of the town's dark days earlier this century. In any case, she was here to record and observe. She could make inferences later.

The front doors were sealed shut with plywood so Kamilah tried the loading dock that was defaced with graffiti. She snapped a few pictures then flashed her light seeking out another possible entrance. There was a door which she climbed up the dock and crossed to, twisted the knob and discovered it was locked. No biggie, she came prepared.

Freezing off the handle with bottled nitrogen oxide, Kamilah gently nudged the door open that squeaked loudly. She gritted her teeth against the sound and quickly darted inside in the off chance she tripped an alarm.

"Damn," she swore. It was dark as shit. Kamilah couldn't see two feet in front of her even with her flashlight. "Senses magnify by a hundred percent."

Her sense of smell went off the chart, hearing—she could hear mice running through the walls; her eyes could see everything perfectly as if the sun were shining directly in the demolished building. This was the only benefit to having the nanite chip implant, able to manipulate her body's function to fit the environment. However, Kamilah still thought of it as a tracking device. In any case, it was too much at once so she corrected it. "Dim hearing and smell by fifty-nine percent."

She didn't _need_ to smell animal droppings, gas, and mold or hear the critters who called this former institute of learning, home. Clicking off her flashlight, Kamilah found her way out of the storage room and into one of the corridors.

It was in better condition that she suspected. Sure the roof was caved in, in certain spots, pipes were exposed, and there was a literal hole in the floor she had to leap over, but at least she could walk easily enough.

Kamilah peeked into classrooms, one completely torched, everything melded together or covered in ash, the smell—horrendous. She thought she may have seen an arm poking out like the famous The Awakening sculpture in DC, but she wasn't going to go back to look.

She came to a fork in the road, glanced left and right wondering where she should go. If she headed right she would encounter a massive spider web with something the size of a dinner plate in the center of it.

Kamilah went left.

She tried to picture it. Picture going to school here, walking down the same halls her subject of study traveled. Kamilah could hear the conversations, the bang of lockers closing, teachers shouting at kids not to run or to get to class. And in the midst of the chaos would be her—the little witch who would one day flip the world off its axis. At least according to her research.

Kamilah came to the end of the hall. In front of her was a display case. A few framed photos were buried under glass, dirt, and ash. She unearthed one using her thumb to wipe away some of the debris. A smile broadened on her face. Staring up at her donned in a red and black cheerleading uniform was none other than Bonnie Bennett.

Something brown and furry skittered across the floor. Its claws clicked along the ripped flooring sending nails-on-a-chalkboard echoes through the hall.

Kamilah gasped and accidentally dropped the frame. The glass splintered and the noise reverberated like someone shouting from the top of a mountain. Bending down she carefully shook the glass away, and with a little bit of peeling, she removed the picture and stored it protectively in her satchel.

Moving on, Kamilah snapped pictures of anything she thought might be useful. She had a mind to try to find the classroom where Bonnie cast her first locator spell but this place was a labyrinth of iffy floors and stairs. No one knew she was out here, not even her research partner Padme so if a wall came crashing down on top of her, Kamilah would be shit out of luck.

The excitement though of being in a place where a woman she admired made it easy to ignore how cold the air was, the fact it was getting colder without Kamilah's noticing. She found the gym. It was in ruins like everything else. Scoreboard on the floor, bleachers dented, chunks of the floor was missing. In her head all she saw was Bonnie in a t-shirt and shorts executing somersaults or going up to serve while playing volleyball.

A noxious dripping noise caught her ear and the researcher followed it. She rounded a corner and came to the locker rooms. It smelled like motor oil which made Kamilah gag. A lone sink remained attached to the wall and water dripped from it into an overflowed basin.

Frowning, Kamilah was sure the water as well as all utilities had been shut off so where was this leak coming from? Her boots shuffled over broken tile as she drew closer. A water drop fell, then two in succession. Tilting her head Kamilah had the funny thought it could be Morse code. She guffawed a bit at her own thought and looked up at the mirror. There was something written on it.

"Behind you."

Kamilah told herself not even to entertain that, to not even go there, but it was a natural reaction. She spun around expecting to see some freak with no eyes and rows of teeth lunging for her but all she saw were lockers with missing doors, tipped over benches, and personal items that were unintentional artifacts in this ghoulish museum.

Facing the mirror once again she screamed to high heaven.

* * *

 _I'm writing because obviously there's nothing to occupy my mind. Why do I constantly find myself in a constant state of waiting? Waiting for him to call or text or to say he wants to see me? You make time for what's important. That's my mantra but now I feel like I've got to fill my time with activities so I won't be reminded of how lonely I am and feel. I don't want to read about making love, I want to make love. I want to feel special, loved, and cared for. I'm beginning to think I should look elsewhere because right now I'm living an affectionate-less life. I want to feel him between my legs, his lips on my skin, his hands touching me in places he hasn't touched before. I want to hear him say my name. But those things feel so foreign and vague now because it's been so long since anyone's touched me like that. What's worse is that I can't share any of this with him. He's in my blood and soul and I want him out. Gone. Right now I feel like there's too much love in my heart and not enough people to share it with, and too much passion in my soul and not the right person to give it to._

-recovered journal excerpt from Bonnie Bennett circa 2017

* * *

 **December 23, 2055**

She should have been white as a ghost after what she saw tonight. Euphoria made that feat impossible and at the rate she was going, rather driving, Kamilah eased her foot off the gas.

Kamilah parked crookedly in the space right outside of her hotel room. Grabbing her bag she hopped out and raced to the door. She spilled inside the economy suite clicking on the light and locking herself inside.

Her eyes moved too quickly but she was sure that someone was standing in the corner adjacent to the bed. When she looked again that space was empty but she listened. For all intents and purposes she was alone. After tonight she couldn't be blamed for being jumpy. Shrugging off her jacket and toeing off her boots, Kamilah went to work on uploading the pictures she snapped tonight.

On the small desk was a sheaf of handwritten notes about Mystic Falls going as far back as the early nineteen hundreds. She had a spider web of dates and mysterious occurrences. Everything was right there and it was mind boggling that the FBI, district attorney, or even state police never launched an investigation on the town, but most importantly, the founding families. Descendants from all branches seemed to be connected in two centuries worth of cover ups.

While the images downloaded, Kamilah pulled out the old photo of Bonnie Bennett. Handling it with care she walked back to the desk and placed it next to a stack of sealed journals. There were five altogether, only two were in mint condition. The others were either water damaged or severely burned, entire passages missing. Yet they were hardcore proof of the trials and tribulations, victories and losses, love, pain, and heartache of the self-proclaimed witch and last of the Bennett line. On the supernatural circuit Kamilah could fetch a good price for those journals, but she'd never sell a piece of history for a quick buck. Plus she would never dishonor Bonnie that way.

Pushing up the sleeves of her knit sweater, Kamilah stuck her tongue out as she leaned over the desk hungrily eyeing the downloaded pictures.

Her heart began to pick up in pace as she scrolled to the one taken in the locker room, the mirror specifically.

It was obscured by the flash of the camera. Even after making adjustments all that was shown was a girl with twisty curls and too wide dark brown eyes gaping in horror while fumbling to take a picture of a woman staring at her and not through a reflection.

Kamilah thumped her forehead with a closed fist and resisted the urge to wail. "I'm going to have to go back," the thought made her shiver in terror that she swept aside. This is what she wanted to do for a living. Excavate legends and validate them so she'd have to grow immune. "Infrared should work. Could work. Dammit why didn't I think of that?"

Disheartened, Kamilah plopped down on the hard guest chair and scrolled idly through the other images she took of the school.

She perked up as she seemingly snapped a picture while she had been running for her life after seeing what she saw in the locker room.

Zooming in and rotating the image, Kamilah's brow furrowed.

At that time a car alarm went off making the college student jump. Kamilah was all for ignoring it, but decided to check to make sure it wasn't hers. She got up and peaked through the venetian blinds.

Sure enough the lights of her SUV were blinking while the alarm screeched like a hungry toddler.

Sighing, Kamilah grabbed her keys and hit the disarm button. Nothing happened. The alarm continued to go off.

"Okay." The muscles in her neck immediately began to contract. "Great, now I'm going have to manually override the alarm which means leaving the relative safety of the room."

Calculating it should only take a second, Kamilah didn't even bother shoving her feet back in her shoes. She threw open the door, darted outside to her car and plugged in the override code using the touch screen panel on the driver side window.

The truck went silent and Kamilah scurried back in her room.

Closing the door behind her she let out an embarrassing yelp and crashed into the wall, futilely grabbing for something to either steady her _or_ to act as a weapon. Kamilah didn't know which.

A dark-haired man was seated in the overstuffed arm chair, aesthetically blessed and indisputably evil looking whereas the female who was standing next to him…she made Kamilah gulp and taste her life. There was no way…she couldn't be seeing things properly.

"See, Bon-Bon…I told you they still fall for that trick. Every. Time."

"That they do, Damon," vibrant green eyes sparkled. "That they do."

 **A/N: I consider this merely an introduction, a testing of the waters. I know most don't enjoy reading stories from other characters POV's if it's not from the pairing they ship, but I just want to change things up a bit. At the heart this will be a Bonnie story, and you will hear Bonnie's voice. And yes, there will be Bamon moments. So any clue as to what's going on? Guesses? Is curious. On a more private note, the second journal entry is one of my own personal journal entries. I found it fitting with the voice of the Bonnie I'm creating. I made slight edits here and there, but yep, exposing myself. HA! Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading.**


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